


The Fair Maiden of Death's Zealot

by Hawkflight



Category: RWBY
Genre: Abusive Parents, Abusive Relationships, Child Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Dark Humor, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:15:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22205437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hawkflight/pseuds/Hawkflight
Summary: It's a paradox, switching out one monster for another. Or is it? A monster can be a prince, if one wishes hard enough, can't he?
Relationships: Tyrian Callows/Weiss Schnee
Kudos: 13





	The Fair Maiden of Death's Zealot

**Author's Note:**

> I'm developing a soft spot for this pairing, so here's something more festive. I hope you enjoy my deranged yuletide treat :)

She shifts in the bed, restless, unable to find a good angle where not even one of her bruises sting when it came in contact with the mattress. Weiss whines as she flips onto her stomach, finding release for a moment before her body sinks back down and the spot on her tummy flares up, as if it had just received the punch to her guts from earlier.

The one she got when she refused to eat her food, because it made her feel sick and she would just throw it all up anyway. So it didn't really make a difference if she ate it or not. Her father had pulled her from the dining room, saying she needed to behave herself in front of guests, that her lack of manners made them uncomfortable.

She didn't know if that was true or not, she hadn't been able to enter the room again as Jacques had struck her abdomen, causing her to throw up the lunch she had managed to keep down earlier.

Her tummy was grumbling, but she didn't think a late night snack would help right now. The spot was still tender. Weiss jumps up from the bed, walking a few steps to grab her glass on the vanity, empty.

Well then, she didn't have a choice. She would have to chance her father still being up so she could get some water, hopefully that would help dull the pain somewhat.

Weiss tiptoed to the door, slipping on some socks before opening it a crack. Upon not hearing her father or any of the staff she took a step out from her room, closing the door softly behind her while keeping her fingers wrapped around her cup. If she broke it she wouldn't get another one for her room, her father had said as much when she insisted on having it, threatening to take her entire bed away if she accidentally peed on it during the night.

She wished he wasn't her father. That he didn't strike her for the smallest mistakes. He insisted she be perfect, so he kept the bruises in spots her clothes would hide, but they seemed to burn her flesh whenever she was out in public. She had missed a single note performing for her piano teacher to show all she had learned and he had bent her over his knee hours later in the dead of night, her screams filling the air but no one appeared to stop him. Weiss hadn't been able to sit for a week after that and her skills had suffered. So of course, she was punished for not practicing.

For not being perfect. As an heiress she must be constantly improving for the day her father stepped aside and she gained control of the Schnee Dust Company. But for now she was to be a fancy puppet, singing her little tunes to the sound of applause and money shifting hands.

She wished she didn't have to listen to him, that her body wasn't littered with black and blue marks. But that was just a fantasy.

Her feet don't make a sound as she walks down the hallway, heading to the kitchen when she pauses, glancing to father's study. The door was closed, but she could still hear voices within. Someone was arguing with her father.

With a glance around her she walks closer, listening as the voices rise.

"So where is it, then? You knew I was coming to collect. Why else would you be up at this hour, Jacques?"

"I have it nearby-"

"Then give me the access card, before you ask me to do anything else."

"Tyrian," father used a tone as if to suggest he was speaking to an old friend. It sounded like he was in the middle of a business deal. "I said before that I would need a _few_ favors, not just one."

"I'm not interested in being your rat. I killed Cerela because it's why I came here in the first place. Your trinket was suppose to be a bonus, not a captive."

"You know I can have the authorities down here in-" It went silent, though she hadn't heard the other man interrupt. Perhaps he had whispered something to quiet her father's ramblings?

Weiss frowns, leaning forward to press her ear to the door. It's very faint, but she could swear she heard a gurgle from within and a single tap on the wood next to the door. Her eyes go wide, but she can't move away quick enough before the door swings open and she falls to her knees, having put all her body's support on the door. It hadn't sounded like they were finished! How was she suppose to-

She glanced up, blue eyes meeting gold as a man stared down at her, having taken a step back from where she fell. He looked... surprised.

What of father? Was he going to beat her again? She wrenched her gaze from the stranger's eyes moving wildly around the room before settling on her father's desk, where he sat slumped over in his seat, blood trickling from an open wound on his neck. The blood was pooling on the desk, slowly making its way to the edge where it began to fall off.

_Drip. Drip._

There was a diagonal slash of red staining the wall to his left, flecks of it standing out against the otherwise pearl white paint.

"You killed father," the words slipped from her mouth, her gaze turning back to the stranger - her savior.

Her words seemed to shake him out of his stupor. "Hm? Oh yes, terribly tragedy that. But don't worry dear, you'll join him soon." She blinked up at him, gaze tracing the movement over his shoulder to see a tail hovering there, a sharp point at the end still covered in blood. "I can't have any witnesses."

Her heart beat stopped. But... he was gone, finally. Her father lay dead and this man thought she wanted to see him again? No. She had just gotten away from that monster! This couldn't be how her life ended; before it ever had the chance to begin.

"I won't be a witness if you take me with you." It was the best she could do. Her father had never mentioned a scenario like this. Besides, why wouldn't she want to leave this place? There was nothing here for her and that's how all the fairy tales ended. With the hero taking the princess from the tower after slaying the dragon, right? Her prince _had_ to say yes.

Tyrian cocks his head to the side, as if considering her words. "True... but, I'm not looking to be a babysitter."

"I'm six years old," she practically snapped in indignation. "I can look after myself. You won't have to babysit me."

His brow raised, a chuckle slipping from his lips. "So you can, I see. Such a sharp mind of sound judgement," he said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I can!" she promised. If it meant leaving here... she would do _anything._ Just how did she make him understand that? "I- I could..." she fumbled for the words, quickly realizing she had nothing to offer him.

Oh no. What would happen to her? She didn't want to go back to father... not that mother would notice her missing. With how often she saw the woman it seemed like she must have drunken herself to death already. Her sister was long gone... her baby brother left at a winter daycare while her father had schemed away in his study... What could she do?

"Please, sir-"

"Tell you what, little one. I'll take you with me if you know where your father keeps his more personal belongings."

Weiss blinked, staring up at him for a second, eyes glassy from unshed tears. Her father's... belongings? Like the dragon's treasure! Yes, _yes_ she could help with that. With a nod of her head she had pushed herself up from the floor, turned and raced down the hall to the sound of Tryian's laughter echoing after her.

She paused at the door to the library, pushing the heavy thing open with a grunt she flew to the northeast wall, clambering onto a ladder Weiss reached up with tiny hands, hopping once, twice before her fingers snagged the edge of the metal book with a worn leather cover. It tilted down with ease, a click sounding to her right where a painting shifted back before sliding into the wall to reveal a safe behind it.

"Is that what you're looking for?"

Tyrian made a small sound in his throat - disappointment. "You don't happen to know the password do you? It would make this much quicker."

Oh, the dials. Right.

"Yes. I've watched father open it while I've studied before." Weiss got down from the ladder, initially going to drag it over when the man walked over and picked her up, carrying her back to the safe. She took a deep breath, trying to remember all the numbers, all the turns of the dial...

Weiss reached for the first one, turning it three clicks left before spinning it to the right, letting it stop on seventeen, then inching it back to a few numbers until it clicked. She moved onto the second one, then the third, each _clicking_ in succession. There was a grinding sound behind the door before the metal door popped open.

She glanced over her shoulder, slipping for a second as his hands shifted to accommodate her as he reached inside the safe with the other one. Weiss found her body pressed to his chest, a grin on his lips above her as he pulled items from the safe, leaving them to clink and plunk into his pockets.

"Did I do good?" she asked, fingers grasping onto the edges of his jacket, her pinky sliding across smooth skin beneath it.

"Yes, very."

"Can I come with you, then?" And not join father, she added silently. She had given him the dragon's treasure. Surely the prince wouldn't leave her here after she gave him his reward?

A soft laugh came from him, causing her heart to skip a beat.

"Of course, snowflake."


End file.
